


You Won't Hurt Me

by hislightherdarkness



Category: Castle Rock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-07-04 16:02:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15844668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hislightherdarkness/pseuds/hislightherdarkness
Summary: Seraphina had dreamt of a man she had yet to meet, a man who was her opposite, a man who brought death wherever he went. When fate leads her to Shawshank Prison, she finds more than what she had imagined and she begins a journey of self discovery and of a bond unlike any other.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was previously on my tumblr but I had decided to move it to here, and there are some small changes/additions to the story when writing it for here. I plan to post a new chapter every Friday, so keep an eye out!
> 
> While this is based on the show, no matter where the show goes with the characters, I am doing my own thing, which will mean characters and plots will differ. If you are ok with that, great, if not, that's alright.
> 
> Also, please check out my aesthetic on this fic, it also provides my face claim for the character Seraphina. 
> 
> https://ladywriter94.tumblr.com/post/177488030999/you-wont-hurt-me-a-castle-rock-aesthetic#notes

Prologue:

My grandmother told me my fate when I was only eight years old. 

She lived in a small town called Castle Rock and my parents only brought me to see her once a year, and they hardly ever spoke of her. They always said she was an odd woman, someone to never take to heart of what she said, but they always were weary of her, as if she could hurt them. I had always known her to be the nicest grandmother a kid could ever have, her home the most unique and fun. I had often wished we saw her more than just once a year for her birthday. 

After the fire that took them away, I was sent to live with her. She was always a kind lady, a bit odd but funny. She often had people come to her house and she would tell them their futures, tell them where life will take them and how life will be taken from them. I always felt jealous of these people of whom she would read but I never could ask for my parents told me to never ask her. There was always something ominous about it all, and they always seemed to look at her with uneasy eyes, as if she knew something that could change everything. 

After a month of staying with her, she called me into the living room. “Seraphina, today is the day that I shall share with you your fate. If you are not afraid, come sit by me.”

I was afraid, afraid and excited, but my excitement had overruled my fear. At last I would know my fate, I had only hoped my fate would be a good one. 

Sitting beside her, she took my hands into hers, and looking into them she nodded. “Yes, just the same as the day you were born. Your parents didn’t want you to know, but fate has a funny way of catching up to all of us.”

“What do you see, Grandma?”

Looking at me, she said, “You, my dear girl, shall be a bride of death.”

A sudden chill went up my spin. “Do you mean I will die?”

“No, my dear. It means that the one you are destined for carries death and destruction wherever he goes. All those who touch him are doomed. Except for you.”

“Why?”

“Because you were born for him. As he is born for you.”

Before I could ask why again, she explained. “You may not have yet notice, but you have a special gift. You are able to make bad things go well. You surviving the fire without a scratch, not just a miracle. You have been chosen to be his equal, his balance in the world. Together, you complete one another. He is a bridegroom made of death, and you a bride made of life.”

She then kissed my palms and sent me off to bed. 

While lying in my bed that night, I had wondered if what my grandmother had said was true; was it possible that there was such a person who’s life is meant to cause misery? Who was I to balance that out? I was only a child, I could barely make it through math class, how could I be an equal to someone? I then wondered if my parents believed in it, if that was why they seemed to hate coming to Castle Rock, as if something dark awaited me. Or was it that they were right, that she was just some oddball lady and I really should not take to heart what she said. 

Deciding to not think of it until tomorrow, I curled up in my bed and fell asleep. 

That night, I dreamt of a pair of eyes, one blue and one brown. And I knew them.


	2. Shawshank Prison

Chapter One:

For the next fifteen years I have had dreams of those eyes. Not every night, but too many nights that it was no longer a coincidence. I hadn’t told my grandmother of the eyes, it felt wrong somehow. As if those eyes were meant for me alone. Those eyes that did not show destruction and death for the world, but rather held all the sadness of the world and then for me alone, adoration. Along with those eyes, I also dreamt of other things; the owner of the eyes was trapped, somewhere dark, somewhere cold. I could feel his loneliness, the constant isolation, with an exception of whoever his jailer was. I could feel the things he felt, I even saw somethings through his eyes, the metal bars of which he could run his fingers up and down on, the small confines of his prison, how it lacked a pillow or a blanket. I could also hear the sound of something creaking, a shadow of a person coming close, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not see who it was that was holding him prisoner. I often would wake crying because of the suffering I felt him go through and feeling powerless to help. 

Besides this, my life had been a good and uninterrupted one. I went to school, had many friends and very little unhappiness. I had great grades in school, never had been bullied, only ever had the best of memories of my childhood. I would remember what grandmother said about good things happening to me, and often the thought of the man would come to me. Some days I wonder if she was just trying to scare me or entertain me with such a story, and others, just how much of it could be true?

She and I lived together even after my graduating high school. I had gotten a job at the library, working as a clerk and life was at a steady peacefulness. Because we are the only library in town, often times we would have to make deliveries to Shawshank prison. I had never been, and a part of me had always been glad. Many people say it is an awful place to be, filled with some of the worst people, and I was scared of it. 

Unfortunately, it was delivery day and the usual clerk, Miriam, was sick. I was the next pick. 

As we had packed up the boxes of books for the prisoners to look at, Ernie, the driver, told me of how the procedure went, and then gave me a reassuring pat on my shoulder. "You'll be fine. Shawshank may have some really awful prisoners, but it has one of the best security in the whole town. You'll be safe." I nodded, trying to allow that to reassure me. I went back in the library to get my purse when Cindy came over to me

“Have fun!” she teased. “And maybe while you are there, see if you can get a good look at the Kid.”

Puzzled, I asked “The Kid? What kid?”

“They apparently found some guy under Shawshank, trapped in a cage. The old warden, Warden Lacey had committed suicide and it’s said he had him down there. Possibly for, you know,” lowering her voice she said, “Sex stuff.”

Wincing, I just shook my head. “I am just going to go in, do my job and get out. I can’t understand how Miriam does it.”

“Could be that she gets a thrill of being near some of the worse of the worse. Or maybe she is able to feel comfortable since she is just an old woman. But you,” she said, giving me a once over, “The prisoners would get a kick out of you.”

I just glared at her before I turned to leave. Ernie waited for me out in the truck and off we went to Shawshank.

Driving the truck up the gate, I felt my heart pound hard. I can’t believe I am doing this and there was a sense of foreboding in this for me, as if something was going to end. The end of the wait. But the wait for what?

I was escorted carefully into the prison by two guards, one of which was really nice. Dennis was his name, and I felt at ease near him.

“Many of the prisoners really enjoy reading,” he said, “They’ll be really happy to see you.”

“In more ways then one,” his partner named Boyd chuckled. 

Dennis shot his a look but then looked back at me reassuringly. “I promise, nothing will happen to you. We’ll keep you safe.”

They lead me into a large room where the tables were set up so I could display the books. Dennis helped me out while the other guard just stood there, rolling his eyes at Dennis. Once they were all set up, a group of prisoners walked in, they looked around, flipping through the books.

I did my best to put on a confident smile, try to act professional and not like some frighten child. Some of them had asked after Miriam, asking me to send her their regards, while some just quietly came up and checked out their books. I had to admit, I was quite proud of myself, as much as I was sure I had been shaking, no one seemed to notice and it went off without any problems. There was one prisoner who did make me nervous; he was covered with tattoos, many of which were of the Swastika and he glared at me a good deal of the time. I remembered him checking out “The Lord of the Flies”, thinking it an interesting choice for him. Thankfully though, he caused no problems, even if his wink at me towards the end did creep me out. 

Once they had gone and it was time to put the remaining books back into their bins, Dennis smiled at me. “You did good. It takes guts and a spirit to walk through those doors and stand in a room with guys like these. Miriam would be proud.”

“Thanks. It wasn’t as bad as I had thought it would be, though that doesn’t mean I would love to go through it again.”

Dennis laughed. “Can’t blame you. Say, can I borrow this? My wife has been asking me to go to the library for her. She gets so bored out of her mind while waiting for me at night, plus, it’s about babies.”

“Oh, she’s expecting?”

He beamed, “Yeah, due in a few months. Our first. It’s both exciting and nerve-wrecking.”

Taking his hand, I said, “It will be alright. I promise. And you may take it, as a token of my appreciation.”

Giving my hand a squeeze before letting go, he escorted me to the parking lot, but the truck was not there. “Huh, I guess Ernie isn’t back yet.”

“Um, if you’d like you can wait inside.”

“No thanks. It’s nice out.” I had no interest in going back in, even if it was just to wait. 

Dennis nodded and then his phone went off. “Sorry, my wife. I have to take this.” Moving away, I was left standing alone. I paced around, taking a look at the building. It was old and large. It felt wrong to have something like that in a small town like Castle Rock. The breeze brushed past, moving my hair into my face. As I reached to push my hair back, I had turned and saw someone. 

In the courtyard, there was a lone man standing by the gate. He was tall, pale, and was staring at me. Despite what I had felt earlier of the prisoners of Shawshank, I had to get closer to this one. 

I could hear my parents’ voices in my head, telling me to turn around, run as far away as I could, but I just couldn’t. As I got closer I had a better look at him. He looked as if he hadn’t been fed for the longest time, hadn’t seen the sun in forever, a hunch in his right shoulder, and then those eyes. I felt the world drop from me when I saw those two tone eyes, one blue and one brown. 

I rose my hand to the fence, letting my fingers curl around the chain. Looking at my hand then back to me, he started to raise a hand to the fence, but then stopped. He looked scared, worried. “You won’t hurt me.” I wasn’t sure where it came from, but I knew it was the absolute truth.

His hand rose and his fingers gently touched mine. They were cold but not uninviting. He let out a sigh. “Seraphina.”

Before I could question how he knew my name, I could heard a guard yelling and in a split second he was taken from me. Even as they dragged him away, his eyes never left me, and I saw those eyes that were only for me. 

It was him. I found him.


	3. What Grandma Knew

Chapter Two:

Ernie returned a few minutes after the event and I was quiet the whole ride back. He was real. The man I had often dreamed of was real. He was in Shawshank, and he was the prisoner that was found under the prison. 

Dennis had filled me in when they took him away. He told me about how he had found him below the prison, how he is a quiet man who had no name, had no record anywhere. He almost didn’t exist. He spoke of a name when they found him, a lawyer named Henry Deaver. Dennis had hoped that somehow, with Henry’s help, they would not only be able to help the Kid out, but to expose Shawshank for what it was. 

“Shawshank isn’t the safest or most lawful place, least of all for the prisoners. It’s full of people who care for nothing or anyone. I am not quite sure why I am spilling all of this to you, Sera, but I trust you. I can, can I?”

I assured him that I would not say a word, and I told him that if there was anything that I could do to help the Kid, I would. Assuming that it was merely because of the injustice of the whole situation, I didn’t have to try and explain what transpired between him and I nor of the dreams. If I did, he would seriously question my sanity. Even I had questioned my own sanity, for how could I be so quick to help a man I barely knew, a man that only spoke one word to me, all because of a dream I often had. 

But what was to be done? How could I help him when I had no real power to do so? Who could I talk to? Grandma. I would talk to Grandma. The benefit of having been to Shawshank was that I was allowed to go home early, I was in no mood to hear Cindy's questions and remarks. I nearly ran home, desperate to know more, she had to know more. “Grandma? Grandma?”

“Hush dear, I am right here,” she softly spoke from the living room. She was on the couch reading a book. “What is the trouble?” she asked not looking from her book.

Moving to kneel beside her, I breathlessly explained, “I saw him. The man you told me about.”

She looked up from her book and rose her eyebrow. “He has found you. Or rather you found him.” Setting aside her book, she then asked, “Who is he?”

“I don’t know. I barely got to speak to him. He was taken away by the guards.”

“Guards?”

“Yeah. He’s the Kid everyone keeps talking about, the one they found in a cell under Shawshank. No one knows who he is or where he came from. They aren't even sure why he was down there, there's awful rumors about him and Warden Lacey, but-”

All color escaped from my grandmother’s face. “Did you say ‘Warden Lacey’?” After I confirmed what I had said, she gasped. “Oh my god.” She stood and moved away from me. “What had I done?”

Standing too, I looked at her curiously. “What do you mean? Do you know him? The Kid?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know who he is. Not his name, anyway.” Turning to me she had tears in her eyes. “Twenty-seven years ago, the late Warden Lacey had come to me. He had spoken to me about hearing the voice of God, of a mission that he was told to carry out, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was. He wanted to know if it was true, could I see if this was his calling. He seemed afraid of the idea that it was the devil in his head, but if it wasn’t and it was true, he told me that his mission would help save Castle Rock. I had felt honored to think that he would trust me with so important of a mission, even if I had no idea what it was. I told him that his fate was to follow the voice, that he was not going crazy. Sometime after, I began to notice that the town was calm, that the horrors of the past no longer haunted us. I held that man in esteem for years for whatever he did, but I didn’t know he was going to kidnap a boy and keep him in a cage. If I had known, I would never have helped him.”

All feeling had left my body then. My grandmother, my good and unusual grandmother, had been part of an entrapment of another human being for twenty-seven years? As she sobbed into her hands, I realized that she was not to blame. She may be a bit frazzled at times, but she would never have allowed anyone to do as awful of a thing as that. Lacey had used her to make himself feel that he was doing the right thing by taking a boy from his home and locking him away. 

I went over to her and brought her into a hug. “It’s ok. You didn’t know. He didn’t tell you because you would have tried to stop him. You cannot beat yourself up over this.”

“How could I not?” she asks, stepping back and wiping her eyes. “A poor boy whose childhood was lost, a young man who was being held prisoner against his will, all because I let a man believe he needed to pursue whatever this mission was? I am just as bad as he is.”

“No you are not. Lacey had no remorse for what he did, and even if he did and the suicide was his guilt, he still let that man stay in that cage before anyone found him. If Dennis hadn’t found him, he could have starved to death. Lacey was a monster, you aren’t.”

Sighing, she replied, “If there is anything I can do to make it right to that young man, I shall. And what will you do? Now that you know who he is and where he is, what will you do?”

What would I do? I had no power to help him; I am not a lawyer or a guard to help protect him. All I knew was that I had to see him again, try to talk to him. Hear him speak my name again. I just needed him.


	4. Visiting the Kid

Chapter Three:

If anyone had told me that I would be eager to walk through the doors of Shawshank, I would have told them they were crazy. Yet here I was. 

I had to be careful about how I had went about this, I could potentially make him feel nervous or make the prison question my motives and hurt his chances of getting out. So, with book in hand, I set out on my plan. Going on my lunch break, I rode up to the gate where I was allowed in and granted a visitor’s pass. 

As I waited in the visitors room while they got him, I had rehearsed what I was going to say in my head. I wanted to make sure that out first conversation went well, that I would not let my excitement get the better of me and blab about my dreams. The door opened and I stood there, watching him walk in. I noticed there was a limp to his step and I had to wonder where that had come from. He looked at me with uncertainty, wondering why I was here, no doubt. 

We both sat down across from each other, and I picked up the phone, indicating to him to do the same. He looked at the phone as if he had never seen one before, but he did as I had and put it to his ear. 

“Hello. My name is Sera, and I was the librarian who came over the other day. I had noticed that you weren’t there to check out any books. If you would like, I could find you some books for you to read and bring them over.”

He bit his bottom lip and shook his head. “Won’t let me.”

My heart raced at the sound of his voice. How sad it sounded, how soft.

“Won’t let you? Everyone should be allowed to read. Well, if they won’t let you, then I can come over and read to you. Would you like that?”

He nodded, a faint smile appeared, making me smile in return. 

“Good. I do have a book with me,” I explained while pulling it out from my bag. “It’s a book of poems, Emily Dickinson. Ever heard of her?”

He shook his head. 

“No matter, I think you’ll like her anyhow.”

I opened the book and began to read to him. After each poem, I would look at him, asking him if he liked it. He would only reply with a nod, but his eyes held a kind of wonder that made me go on with enthusiasm. For the next ten minutes we had, I read to him and he listened, and then once more he was taken away, unexpectedly and rather forcibly it seemed. It was completely unnecessary for two big men to drag away one man, and a man looked like he would not harm anyone. He looked back at me, as if he was afraid that this would be the last time he would ever see me and was trying to imprint my face into his brain.

Returning back the library, I had to remember what grandmother had said, how he brought with him death and destruction. Perhaps he would, but perhaps he doesn’t enjoy being a bringer of such unhappiness. Maybe he hates it as much as everyone else would. His hesitation to touch me was born out of his fear of hurting me. Why I knew that, I am not sure, but I do. And I was fine, at least so far. I wondered if I cancel out any of the negativity he radiates with the positivity that I generate. 

After work I stopped by the store, picking up some groceries when I heard a familiar voice. Looking up I saw Dennis, wearing civilian clothes. 

“Hey Sera. It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s weird to see you again,” I blurted out, but then realizing what I had said, I tried to correct myself. “Uh, I mean, it’s so weird to see you outside of Shawshank.”

He laughed, “No I get it, when you step in Shawshank, it can feel like another world.” After passing some pleasantries, we then got onto the subject of which we both were antiquated with. “So, I heard you visited Nick.”

“Nick?”

He chuckled, “I know, sounds silly. A lot of the guards there, they call him Nick, you know, like Nick Cage. And cause he was found in a cage.”

Shrugging, I chuckled, “He doesn’t look like a Nick.”

“Better than saying ‘hey you’.”

Laughing at that, I nodded. “I suppose. Yeah, I went there and I read to him.”

“Good, he needs some friends, some sort of connection to the outside world. But you will need to be careful. What I said before about Shawshank not being safe, it’s true. Especially for him. Many of the guards feel a kind of unease with him. If they could, they would gladly turn a blind eye if any kind of accident were to befall him.”

My mouth fell open at that. “That’s horrible! Earlier, when our visit was over, guards just brutally took him away, as if he were some monster. I want speak to the new warden about this.”

Giving me a dark look, he moved closer and whispered, “Sera, she is the reason they are allowed to do this.” I stared at him in shock. “She didn’t want the public to know about him, to try and pass him off as just another prisoner. But when that fell through, well, she would be grateful to do anything to be rid of the problem.”

A wave of disappointment and shame flooded my body. How could the little town that I had grew up in and loved could be so cruel? How could so many people be willing to look the other way? 

“My advice? Keep visiting him but ask no personal questions. Do not try to ask for his name. Henry says that is his only defense, if they don’t have a name, they can’t charge him. That kid is going to need as many people as he can on his side. And for some reason, I think you will be very important key in all of this.”

But how?


	5. Winter Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Had to throw in a few Stephen King references there. Bonus points if you can spot them!

Chapter Four:

Dennis’ advice rang in my head every time I had went to Shawshank; I had a weary eye for all of the guards and the sense of being watched everywhere I went. But everyday I would always bring a book of poems to read to him, he would look at me as if he was surprised to see me and then all too soon, I would always watch as he was dragged away, always watched as he looked back at me, as if wanting to never go.

I desperately wished to know his name. Did he dream of me too? Does he know who I am and what I can do? So many questions I had wanted answered, but could never get the chance to do so. All the guards at Shawshank wanted to know that I was doing, why I would visit him of all people when I seemingly barely knew him. They watched me with a curiosity that was so vicious it looked as if they would kill me for visiting. But no one would dare ask, as if hearing any information would tie them closer to him, and no one wanted to be that close. Dennis was my only link to the Kid. He would tell me if he was treated properly, tell me any updates from the lawyer.

During this time, I had the most unusual and disturbing dreams. I dreamt of people I could not see, feelings of separation and heartbreak. A woman sobbing inconsolably. A husband keeping a secret. It felt as if I was there, as if I knew this people and I was unable to reach them despite my longing to do so. Each dream felt like a puzzle, trying to put the images together from the previous one, hoping for clarity. But every time I woke, I could only find myself feeling disoriented, more confused than when I had fallen asleep. My life was becoming an odd one, my days were spent in anticipation for visits, my nights tangled in a life that was not mine. I could not help but to wonder if it had something to do with him, that maybe my dreams were a key to his past. I never told him any of this during his visits, if I can't help him piece his past together, it would do him no good to even mention it, at least until we were safe.

One day, I had rode up to Shawshank and had seen the mortician’s car parked. Panicking, I hurried in to see if it was him, if at last someone had gotten to him. Dennis caught me in time before I had barged into the truck.

“Relax, it’s not him.” Heaving a sigh of relief, I had asked him what happened. “That Nazi that you met on your first visit? He died. They put the Kid in the cell with him with the hope that, surprise, he would get killed by the Nazi. But instead he was the one who died.”

“What did he die of?”

“This is what was strange, the coroner said he died of various cancers. Told the warden that he was surprised that he was able to even walk into the cell.”

Feeling my blood run cold, I could imagine what had happened. He no doubt tried to touch him and when he did, he died. Though I was surprised just how quickly it had happened. But then again, I remember when my pet dog had gotten hit by a truck and not long after holding her, she got up as if nothing had happened. Would they suspect anything of him or would they just see it as a strange coincidence? Not wanting to hear anymore, I asked him to take me to him. I needed to see him.

As we were walking towards the visitors room, Boyd stepped up and said, “Sorry but your visit has been canceled.”

“What, why?” He shrugged, looking as if he could care less about anything or anyone. I looked at him with low patience. “A shrug is all you are going to give me? It does not answer my question and I would like to hear a proper answer, now.”

He laughed, his hands going up in feign defense. “Oh forgive me, I hate to interrupt your quality time with your boyfriend. You will just have to make do for today.”

Biting the inside of my cheek, I then calmly but firmly demanded, “Bring me to your warden. Now.”

Turning to Dennis he pointed to me and said, “Feisty that one. Put that kid in a bedroom with her, he’d die.” Boyd then lead the way to the warden’s office, laughing too much at his own joke. After a long walk and him announcing me to the warden, he winked at me and whispered, “Go get ‘em tiger.”

It’s a wonder that Dennis could stand that guy, I could barely stand to be in the same room with him for a minute, he has to go through an entire day listening to his bullshit.

Once alone in the office, I saw a sharp looking woman behind the desk smile at me. Standing she said, “Hello, I am Theresa Porter. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Sera Snell. I work at Castle Rock Public Library.”

“Oh yes, our prisoners love library day. Please sit.” Sitting after I had, she asked, “What might I do for you and your library?”

“Well, actually, this is more on a personal matter. I have been visiting someone here and I have been told today that the visit has been canceled. I would really appreciate an answer for this and one that is not a shrug as one of your guards had seen fit to give me.”

Nodding, she leaned back into the chair. “So you have been visiting our rather mysterious guest. I am sorry to say that he is under suspicion of a death of a fellow inmate. We have reason to believe he may have had something to do with it.”

“How did this inmate die? Was he stabbed?”

Thrown off by my question she stuttered, “Uh, no.”

"Was he beaten?"

She sighed, crossing her arms. "No."

“Now, I can’t imagine he stole a gun from your highly trained guards or had any kind of poison on him. And seeing how right now they are taking the body away to no doubt to be put to rest,” I explained while pointing to the window where the dead body was carried off into the truck, “It appears that everything is taken cared of.”

Warden Porter looked at me, as if to try and read me. Smirking, she then snidely asked, “Aren’t you a bit young to be visiting strange men in a prison? What would your parents say?”

“Well ma'am, seeing as they have been dead for fifteen years, I can’t really say. I am twenty three years old and if you would like, I’ll show you my ID as proof.” I pulled out my license and handed it to her. She eyed it carefully and sighed. She knew she lost the battle.

Returning it, she said, “I will see to it that he is brought out to you.”

Smiling, I stood and thanked her. Before leaving, she asked, “Miss Snell, you have been visiting him for about a week. He has no known family, no record, barely speaks to anyone, and yet you visit him. May I ask why?”

I gave her a shrug and walked out.

Boyd didn't look pleased as he brought me back to the waiting room, he even was quiet the whole way back. I paced the waiting room, back and forth, anxious to see him. When he appeared I was grateful to not see him harmed in any way.

“Are you ok?” He nodded, though he looked as if he was a small child who broke the rules. “I got worried. I would hate to think anything happened to you.”

He looked at me with wide eyes, almost as if he was surprised by my confession. I didn’t regret it, it was the truth, but it did leave me feeling bare and vulnerable. I had to be the strong one here, if I showed any cracks for the guards to see, they could use it against me. I had started to go into my bag to pull out a book. “Well, um, I brought it with me. As promised, Robert Frost.”

“Your hair,” he whispered.

For a few seconds I was shocked to hear him say anything. “My hair?” I ran my free hand in my hair, wondering if there was something in it.

And then, in a soft voice, he spoke the longest strand of words he had ever said to me. “You hair is winter fire, January embers. My heart burns there too.”

Now it was my turn to look at him in surprise. I never would have taken this quiet man as a poet. Twirling my auburn hair between my fingers and smiling, I could only say, “What a beautiful thing to say.” For a while, we just sat there, smiling at one another. He seemed quite pleased with himself, as if he had hoped to make me smile. After leaving him and long into the night, I had repeated those lines in my head. _My heart burns there too_. I buried my face in the pillow and smiled.

My heart burns there too.


	6. Shawshank's Execution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be a bit longer than some of the others, in case that is a problem for some of my readers.

Chapter 5:

His poem rang in my ears and I couldn't help but smile when I thought of it, of him. I will admit, I have had quite a number of people who had crushes on me and they were all flattering, but after the one date I had when I was in high school, I just couldn't be with anyone. It was no fault of the boy, but when my hand had touched his as we watched the movie, I had a sudden surge of pain, of suffering, like a heart being broken. And once more I saw his eyes. To try and be with another person had caused him tremendous pain and I couldn't bear it. I hate to admit it, but I guess Boyd was right, the Kid was my boyfriend. We certainly shared something more than what most people would share and once he got released, I would finally get the answers I had waited so long to receive. When I visited him, I couldn't contain my joy and he, well, he was not in a pensive mood like he was other times. I couldn't even bring it in myself to read him Robert Frost as much as I had promised him; I just wanted to be with him. Surprisingly, he had spoke first today. "You look well."

"I feel well, maybe that's why."

He shook his head, his eyes looking up and down on me. "You always look well."

I blushed. "Do you only ever speak to flatter women?"

At this he became flustered, a small and quick smile appeared, before he decided to hide it. "You're the first. And only."

I placed my hand on the glass, wanting him to do the same, but a look of concern painted his face. "You won't hurt me. You could never hurt me." Accepting that, he then carefully placed his hand on the glass, lining it up with my hand and I could see just how big his hand was compared to mine. Smiling at him, I felt an urge to feel his skin again, to feel the cold hand, even for a moment. For the first time, I saw on his face a look of utter happiness and I wondered when was the last time he was truly happy.

Suddenly, the door opened on my side and there was Boyd. "Ok, time's up. Let's go."

"I-I barely was here for five minutes. Is something wrong?"

"Let's go. You've spent too much time with this freak."

I stood, letting the phone fall from my one hand while my other hand still on the glass. "You have no right to say anything like that. And I will go when I want to."

I turned to sit back down, when his hand gripped my wrists tightly, forcing me to look at him. "I said you are leaving now!" The Kid stood up, knocking the chair back, his eyes were murderous and he began to pound on the glass with his fist. He continued this despite Boyd's shouting at him and soon guards came in from both sides, wondering what the noise was. Dennis had entered through my door and once he saw Boyd's tight grip on me, he immediately came up, trying to pry them off. "Hey man, what the hell are you doing?" Managing to get him off of me, I watched as the Kid was pulled away, his eyes not on me, but on Boyd, sharp as daggers.

"This ends, Dennis. Everything was fine until that freak came, and she's somehow antagonizing it. What the hell are you doing here? Why are you visiting a man you never met?"

I just stood there, shaking, my vision was blurred with tears and I couldn't answer. "You're scaring her, Boyd. Stop being an ass!"

"You are one to talk, you barely smile and you are going to criticize another person for being an ass? Fuck you."

Boyd stormed out of the room, leaving me and Dennis alone. I could see his hurt expression, and I felt that this wasn't the first time someone told him that. "Come on, let's check out your wrists." I felt his gentle touch on my upper back, ushering me out of the the room. As we walked in silence, my mind tried to make sense of what had happened. Anyone that had ever came my way had always been good to me, never before had I been faced with someone who had reacted so violently to me. Am I really a bad influence, or was there something else at play here? Grandma would have the answer for it, I am sure.

In the doctor's ward, Dennis had watched in silence as the doctor checked me. There were nasty bruises and it was extremely sore, but thankfully nothing too bad. "I am sorry about your visit." Dennis finally spoke after leaving the ward. "I don't know what came over Boyd. He had always been an ok guy, but he lately had become very hostile to people, becoming one of the guards that I stand against."

The heartbreak in his voice, the hopelessness, it was so difficult to handle. "Dennis? There's something else. Tell me."

Looking around, he then whispered, "Henry is dropping the lawsuit. He is just going to take the plea bargain. Once more, they get away with it." He lowered his head and muttered, "Do you know why they say this town is lucky? It isn't luck, it's because bad people know they can get away with everything here. How many fucking times can one town look away?"

Pulling him in for a hug, I held him tight. "It's not over yet. There can be other ways to get those bastards. Please don't give up. Remember your wife, your baby. Stay strong for them."

He seemed to relax in my arms and hugged me back. "I'll try. I promise Sera, I'll try." When I left him, I could feel as if something had been changed, something that could have been, and I felt an ease. Once I had returned home, I showed grandma the bruises, explaining to her what had happened. "Why was he so awful to me? I thought that people who came near me would be good?"

"Only if they are good, dear. Some people, in this world, are just born for evil. That man, to do such a thing to you, is not good and I am afraid that someone as good as you can not change that."

My night was filled with disturbing images, of people laying dead as if on a television screen. Quick images of them and in between a figure in the shadows coming closer, x's on the screens of where the dead bodies would lie and then the figure was up to the screen, the light flickered and it was him, the Kid. Waking in a cold sweat, I laid there, trying to calm my beating heart. They were from Dennis, he saw those images, the Kid and then in a flash, it was gone. What did they mean and why did Dennis see them? Does he have a special power, like him and I?

With Saturday off, I was free to visit him for longer than a mere hour that was granted and I felt particularly like dressing up today. I wanted to walk in there as nothing had happened, to show that nothing could faze me. I slipped a cardigan on to try and cover the bruises, out of sight out of mind, as they say. When I drove up, I had arrived the same time as another man, one that I had never seen before. He was a handsome man, perhaps late thirties, dressed in a suit and carried with him a briefcase. We nearly bumped into one another trying to get into Shawshank, to which we both laughed apologizes to one another.

The man looked at me confused and even concerned. "Are you visiting someone here?"

"Yeah. And to check up on a friend that works here. Um, by the way, I am Sera Snell."

Shaking my hand, he spoke, "Henry Deaver."

"Oh, you're the lawyer Dennis told me about!"

He chuckled and then asked, "I hope good things."

"I have to admit, I was a bit disappointed about your giving up the case. He deserves better than that."

"He?"

"The Kid. He's the one I have been visiting."

He looked at me with a curiosity, wondering no doubt what my story was with him. "Please, let us go in and speak with Dennis together, shall we?"

Walking in with Henry, there was a confused look on the guards faces and threat in their eyes. Perhaps they knew we both were visiting the Kid and to think of us teaming together must not have been good news to them. Henry and I had went into Warden Porter's office, which was empty. "Are we allowed in here?"

"I am waiting for a meeting with Porter, so we might as well talk here. Do you know him?" I shook my head, trying to act as if I was just some woman who felt pity for a stranger and only wanted to help. "Dennis had mentioned you read to him. Does he speak to you?"

"Barely. I don't trust anyone here, except Dennis. He is worried about the case, about you giving up. Will you really give up?"

He sighed. "I guess you don't much about me. Castle Rock and I, well, we have a history. I can't stay, I can help him enough to get out, but then I have to leave."

Before I could ask, the door opened and Dennis entered. "I was told my friends were here, who would have thought the two of you would come here on the same day?"

I shrugged, "Maybe luck or fate."

Dennis then looked at me and stammered, "Um, you weren't here earlier, were you? I mean, you didn't go around the cells and um..."

Henry and I looked at each other then Dennis. "What are you talking about? Is everything ok?"

Before he could answer, the alarm went off and we could hear yelling from outside of the room. No one could seem to make a clear statement, the radio Dennis wore received no answer. I felt my whole body freeze and then I had visions of the bodies over the monitor, the x's over them. I could distinctly feel Henry's hands on my shoulders, trying to bring me back to reality. The loud shot of a gun was what pulled me out and down the hallway before us, a figure of a guard, a gun pointed towards us. As he came closer, we saw blood on him and to our shock, Boyd entered the office, an eerie face of indifference. Dennis pulled his gun out and yelled for him to drop it, but Boyd refused to. Henry and I stood there, as if hoping that standing still would make us invisible. Then, whatever came over me, I stepped forward, despite Henry and Dennis' protest and looked him straight in the eyes. I could see his own depravity, his own cruelty and I knew what he needed to do. _Do it do it you don't deserve a mourning_.

Then, in one swift motion, Boyd placed the gun under his chin and fired. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't let Dennis die, I just couldn't. So Boyd was just the right guy for the job.


	7. Believe Me

Chapter 6:

Shawshank was closed off the visitors that day, the building was in a scramble for trying to clean up the mess that Boyd had created. Crowds of people watched from the gates as body after body were carried out, many people looked on with shock and sorrow, never knowing just who these people were that they were mourning. Henry and I stayed in the office, waiting to let everything die down before going out. Neither Henry nor Shawshank wanted the town to know that there were witnesses to the event, that civilian lives were at stake. Everyone seemed concerned with me, asking if I was fine, was I in shock I had to be in shock. I told everyone that I was fine, I just wanted to see him. According to Dennis, the prisoners were all fine, not one of them had been harmed. Having been satisfied with that, I had to reconcile with my visit not happening. Soon the crowd had began to disperse and Dennis offered me a ride. Even though I could easily ride back on my bike, I wanted the chance to speak to him alone, to figure out what he had to say to me before the shooting, to explain to him what happened.

At first, Dennis looked as if he was the one in shock, I had to ask him if he was alright and he replied with a weak affirmative. "I just can't believe Boyd would do this. It has all just been so weird. I mean, yesterday was just weird. Boyd doing that to you, he and the Kid getting into a bit of a scuffle."

"What scuffle?"

"Boyd went to his cell, I can only imagine what he would have done, but I guess the Kid freaked him out with some passage from the bible and I guess he grabbed him." He looked at me with apologetic eyes and said, "He does have a bruise on his face. Boyd got freaked out and hit him with the baton. Thankfully, other guards were able to pull him out. He looked so murderous. He even yelled and tried to fight some of the guards, saying that he can't take it. That was all he could say, 'I can't take, I can't, I can't take it.' We didn't know what he meant, but he was sent home early, hoping that some rest would help him. But..." He trailed off, and I could see the tears in his eyes, but he wiped them away, keeping his eyes on the road.

I had to ask, now or never. "Dennis, before the shooting, you were asking me something. Tell me."

"It's nothing."

"No, I need to know. What did you see?"

Pulling over, turning the car off and staring off through the windshield, he explained. "I saw you, walking the cells, your hand reaching out for the bars. Guards were nowhere in sight. Then I saw the Kid, he was walking out and he found you. You took his hand and was leading him away. But before you did, you looked into the camera, as if right through me. You looked so, Jesus, I can't explain it. There was just something bright about you, it made me feel hopeful." He couldn't look at me, but he let out a nervous laugh. "Sounds ridiculous, right?"

There was something weird going on here, and he deserved to know. "Dennis. I need to tell you something, and I know that it's going to sound very strange and you may not believe me, but you have to." He looked at me curiously, waiting for what I had to say. It was hard to try and spit it out, I never told anyone about me. "Um, I have always had this ability, let's say, where whenever I touch people or even near them, I bring good things."

He chuckled. "That's all? Sera, you're a good person, that's why."

"No, I mean, it's stronger than that. For almost all my life, I thought I was the only one, but I am not. Dennis, the Kid is like me. But, for whatever reason why, bad things happen when he is near. We sort of complete each other."

Dennis looked at me funny and then sighed. "Listen, today has been rough for you, so you just rest and we can talk tomor-"

"No!" I nearly shouted, causing him to jump in his seat. "I am being serious. I know things. I know how people are feeling, especially the happy feelings. And sometimes I see other things. I know that you saw those images on the TV screen of the guards dead, I know that you saw the Kid walking around the prison like I was. I know these things, because I saw them."

He looked spooked, rightly so. "How the hell did you know about that?"

"I told you. I see things. I am not sure why, or even how, but I do. And I think that what you saw, that vision, it was meant for you. You were probably meant to do the shooting today, but I stopped you. And I think that somehow the Kid made Boyd be the one to carry it out."

"So, you're saying that you and he are some sort of yin and yang of each other."

"Yes!" I said, grateful he understood. 

"Right. I think you need to get out of my car now and get your head checked."

I grabbed his arm and said, "Dennis, please believe me!"

"Sera, let me go, please."

"Listen!" I yelled, "And please understand. What happened today wasn't just a freak accident. If you saw those visions, if Boyd could suddenly turn on his fellow guards, then what else could explain it? That could have been you! You could have been the one to shoot up Shawshank, you could have been the one that was lying dead, and you wouldn't be here talking to me, or getting ready to go home to your wife. You would have been dead if it weren't for us!"

He slumped in the seat, staring off, as if trying to take it all in. I let him go and watched his face, watched as he suddenly realized what was happening, realize that he could have been dead now. Dennis looked at me with wide eyes. "Oh God, I could have been dead. Oh holy fuck." His hands were buried into his hair and then whispered, "My wife and baby, they would have been alone. Why? Why would I have been the one to do it?"

I sighed, tucking my hair behind an ear. "I don't know. Maybe it was a sign that Henry was going to drop the case and that this is what would have inevitably happen. Maybe it was because of what you felt towards the guards. I don't know."

He nodded, his face unreadable. "What happens when the two of you are together? Will things be at a balance or something like that?"

"Maybe," I said, "If bad things happen when he is around and good things happen when I am around, then perhaps, together, things will just be normal."

The shock seemed to wear off and he turned to me. "Henry thinks he can get him out on Monday. Tomorrow he'll speak to Warden Porter and they will make the arrangements. Be there, maybe you are the only one who can help him." I nodded. We got out of the car, he helped take my bike out from the back and he then said, "Sera. Thank you. I may not understand it all, but what happened today, I wouldn't be here talking to you if you hadn't come to Shawshank. Thank you."

I smiled and this time, he pulled me in for the hug. He was going to be okay, I could feel it. Filled with a renewed sense of life, he was eager to get home. 

"Oh, wait. If you happen to know, what was it that the Kid said to him?"

Dennis paused and said, "I don't know. Someone said they thought it came from Ezekiel 7:7. I never did get a chance to look it up." 

I murmured a thanks and bid him good night. He waited until he saw I was safe in the house before riding off.  Grandma was right by the door when I entered, hugging me and crying. "Oh sweetie! I heard what happened, I was so worried."

After spending minutes of reassuring her that I was fine, I told her that I was tired and wanted to rest. Hurrying back into my room, I pulled out my bible, searching for Ezekiel 7:7 and found the passage.

The end has come! The end has come! It has roused itself against you. Behold, it has come!   
Doom has come to you, O inhabitants of the land.  
The time has come; the day is near; there is panic on the mountains instead of shouts of joy.  
Very soon I will pour out My wrath upon you and vent My anger against you;  
I will judge you according to your ways and punish you for all your abominations.…

 

I felt my blood run cold at the message. I fell asleep with those words echoing in my brain. 

Later on that night during dinner, I had told everything to Grandma, from meeting Henry Deaver, to the shooting and even my conversation with Dennis. I had thought that she would have been upset with my telling another person of my ability. Rather she understood and agreed that somehow my friendship with Dennis had been able to balance out what fate had in mind for Castle Rock. "I have seen the fate of Castle Rock. It is due for a cleanse, but I saw many good people dying in the process. Your friend would have been one of them had you not intervened. If this man is the reckoning, then you are the salvation. Maybe at last Castle Rock will be as it had once been." I was almost hesitant to mention that he will be released and how I had hoped he would stay here, but I had taken the chance and she took my hand and smiled. "He must be with you. With the two of you apart, you do more harm than good. I will get the guest room ready, it'll be nice to have a man around the house."

Sunday was spent getting ready, fixing up a room for him, stocking up with more food, though Dennis warned me that he doesn't seem to eat much. I assured him that once he had a good home cooked meal he would change his mind. Grandma was anxious to make sure everything was just right, even at times going above and beyond than what she really needed to do. But I understood her concern, she wanted to do every little bit she could to make up for her unwitting part in his entrapment and if this helped her deal with the guilt, I couldn't stop her. I felt excited to know that he was coming here; at last, all these years of only knowing a pair of eyes, brief glimpses of a life I didn't know, I would finally get to know the man that fate had paired me with. I had taken a special bath that night, feeling in a great mood.

As I got cozy in the bubble bath, I had allowed myself to hear the people of Castle Rock. Even before moving in with Grandma, I had always been able to hear people's happiness. I could hear when someone had gotten a gift, told they were pregnant, had their first kiss. All the happy things that happened to people, I could hear it and it always felt good to hear it. I did learn through the years how to shut out the noise whenever I wanted to. It did get to be bothersome when I would hear people almost all the time, but thanks to Grandma, she was able to help me control it. I always see it as a door, a sunny yellow door that I could easily lock and unlock whenever I wished. Tonight was a good night and when I went to bed, I went to bed smiling. I even saw him, felt him. "I am coming for you," I told him, "We'll be together soon." He said nothing, but his hand touched me and it was warmer than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is wondering, yes, the Kid will make a more frequent appearance after this chapter.


	8. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter, long but filled with plenty of Kid content.

Chapter 7:

Today felt like the last day of school, full of excitement, feeling as if the world was sunnier than ever before. I took a week vacation to be there and help him adjust to his new life. Grandma was good enough to allow us the morning alone, thinking it was best to let him get used to everything slowly and carefully. Dennis said that they would release him before breakfast, they didn't want to keep him for a moment longer than they needed to. Borrowing Grandma's car, I drove up to the gate and waited outside. I must have looked silly to the guards, nearly jumping in place waiting for him to come out. Hearing the sound of gravel, I saw a car pull up and Henry stepped out. 

"Hi. Just came to make sure he got out alright," he explained, standing beside me. "Dennis told me that you seemed interested in taking him in."

"Yes. My grandmother and I have an extra room, might as well give it to someone who needs it."

He nodded. "I would have taken him in myself, but I worry that he might have some issues that needs to be taken care of. I thought of taking him to Juniper Hill."

"He needs a friend, not some guy who thinks he's a mental case," I explained.

He nodded, "Yeah, I figured. What he really needs now, I guess, is normality."

We heard the buzz of the door and the Kid walked along the path until he stopped short at the gate. He wore gray sweatpants and shirt with a hint of the white t shirt underneath. His shoes looked a bit worn, probably just shoes that they found in a lost and found box. My heart plummeted when I saw the bruise; it was purple-red and it spread across his cheek. He looked unsure of leaving, as if afraid. No doubt having been inside there for 27 years would make a person be weary of the outside world. As soon as he saw us, he timidly stepped forward and Henry moved closer to him. I couldn't hear what they, or rather what Henry was saying but I saw that he offered his hand to shake, the Kid only looked at it. Henry dropped it and I could hear him say "You take care of yourself, you hear?" Turning away, he gave me an uncertain smile. "He's all yours."

Now it was my turn to step forward. "At last. No glass between us." He gave me a small smile. "How is your bruise? Does it hurt terribly?" I reached up to try and see it better, but before I could, he leaned into my hand. Despite his grimace and groan of pain, he nuzzled into my hand and he looked at me with a heart-aching tenderness. "We're going home now," I explained, carefully removing my hand from his cheek. "No more Shawshank, no more cages." I offered my hand and for a moment he hesitated, but took it. My hand was nearly engulfed in his and I lead him to the car. As I drove him back home, he was so enraptured by the sight of the world around him; the people who walked by, the dog that ran along the fence, the houses that flew by in a blur. As much as it was wonderful to watch him be dazzled by the sight, it also broke my heart. I wonder if he ever really remembered how the world looked outside before being locked in, if he remembers who his family was. 

We soon pulled up to the house and I helped escorted him in. He seemed so small, looking around him as if he was expecting the sky to fall on him. I told him that it would be us two and Grandma, how he'd have a room of his own. "You must be starving. Come in the kitchen, I'll make some breakfast and then we can start on a tour of the house." I had him sit at the table as I set a napkin and fork in front of him. "So, what are you in the mood for? Waffles? Pancakes? French Toast?" He looked at me as if I was speaking another language and it dawned on me that he wouldn't know what any of those were. "Um, how about just plain ole' toast? That's always a good start."

I pulled the loaf of bread set it on the table while I went to grab a glass and some milk for him and when I turned back, he was already in the bag and ate a few slices. It was almost funny to see him freeze mid chew, his mouth full of bread but to look at me like a guilty dog. "Well, I guess you like bread. It can also be pretty good cooked and with some butter." He looked as if the idea was preposterous, but he surrendered the bag and I was able to make the toast. "When I have toast, I also have some nice fruit with it. Do you like apples?" Thankfully he nodded and I began to cut up the apples. We sat in comfortable silence and every once in a while I would look at him, finding that he was staring at me. Putting the apple slices in a bowl, I placed it before him and went to the toast that just popped up and buttered them. "There you go. Quite delicious breakfast, if I do say so myself." He smiled and huffed, which I had assumed was his attempted at a laugh. He wasn't as eager to eat the bread, at first, but after a bite, he looked at me and a goofy smile came on his face. "I'm glad you like it." He ate vigorously, as if he was afraid that the food would magically disappear. Once it was all gone, he was quiet again. 

"Thank you," he spoke in such a soft voice. 

"You are very welcome. Ready for a tour?" He nodded and I led him through the first floor, the kitchen, through the dining room and into the living room. Once in, he spotted the piano and went right to it. I watched as his fingers carefully slid across the keys until they began to play a song, nothing I knew. "You play?"

He stopped and shook his head. "I remember it being played."

It was an odd answer, but I only nodded and brought him upstairs. "Here's Grandma's room, there's the bathroom. My room is right here, right across from yours, so if you need anything I will be nearby." This comforted him and we stepped into his room. He looked around and carefully sat on the bed. Then, removing his shoes, he moved himself onto the bed and laid on it, his hands resting on his stomach. "Comfy?"

"I never had a bed before. Warden Lacy never gave me a blanket or a pillow. It was not comfortable."

Sorrow and rage filled me; how could someone be so cruel as to not give the basic necessities? He will have all that he had been denied, I would make sure of it. "Are you tired?" He nodded. "Take a nap. I'll check on you in an hour." I came closer to take the blanket that was folded at the end of the bed and helped drape it over him. Before I left, he took my hand and held it. He just looked at me, scared. "I'll be here when you wake. I promise." I sat beside him, still holding his hand, watching as he fell sleep. I studied his face. The bruise looked even worse against his pale and gaunt skin, he looked so innocent like a child. There would be no questions to be had today, today is a day of comfort. I went back down to clean up in the kitchen, wondering just what will we do now. He has no history, has no possessions or family to speak of, not even a name of his own. He was completely alone in the world. I watched as he slept as if he hadn't slept in years. It was strangely calming to watch him, to know that he was safe now. I didn't expect to see how much he would need me, to depend upon me for emotional support. I wasn't sure how long I had sat there looking at him, but it certainly felt like no time had passed. He huffed and then slowly woke up, his sleepy eyes looking up at me. "Hey there. Sleep well?"

He nodded. "Thank you for not leaving me."

I smiled and ran my hand through his hair. "Of course." 

Looking at my watch, I realized that it was almost one o'clock. The door opened and grandma entered. "Hi there dear, where is our-" She stopped short when she saw him on the bed. He looked as if he could curl up and disappear into the bed. "My, you are a handsome fella, aren't you? A bit thin, but with some of my cooking, we'll get you fatten up. Speaking of, are you hungry? Would you like some lunch?" He nodded and grandma looked pleased. "Good. I'll go and whip up something delicious." She hurried out of the room, looking back at us once more. 

"It's not her fault." I looked at him. "I know she didn't mean to. It was never her fault."

I smiled. "She'll be glad to know that. But let her take care of you for a while, if she doesn't, it will eat away at her." He silently agreed and we went into the kitchen. She had made him a ham sandwich with a brownie, I could tell how much he wanted to just eat the bread and forgo the rest, but he caught a glimpse of my grandma's hopeful eyes and he ate the sandwich in silence. Grandma tried to speak to him, ask him if he liked it here, did he remember his old life, but he just stayed silent, eating his lunch. She gave up after a bit, but gave a sympathetic smile. 

"I am bothering you, you don't want to hear an old woman asking you personal questions. Let me just say that I am so glad you are here. Think of this place as your home."

She got up, ready to leave us alone and then he said in a whisper, "Home."

She looked back, staring at the back of his head, looked to me, tears in her eyes and then hurried off. This was an emotional day for us all. After lunch, I brought him into my room, allowing him to see my history, my life. He seemed so out of place, a giant in my tiny world. But it was nice and the way he observed everything, as if it was a dream that he didn't want any detail to be forgotten. I would tell stories for whatever his eyes laid upon, a picture of me with a blue ribbon for spelling, me dressed up as a witch, getting my bike Silver, my first dance, prom, graduation. He looked at me enraptured, as if my life was absolutely fascinating to him. My life was no different to anyone else's, at least I had thought so, but I suppose he enjoyed the stories because he could somehow live them through me. "My grandma got my bike when I moved in with her. It was painted a bright silver and had red tassels. I would ride along the streets yelling 'High ho Silver!' It's a bit faded now, but Silver is still my faithful companion."

Grandma called up to say dinner was ready and it was good to see him eat more than just bread. He stayed silent throughout but he listened carefully to our conversation, and I would catch a glimmer in his eyes that seemed as if he was happy to be here. I had hoped so. Afterwards, he mimicked us as we cleared the table, putting dishes away and stored the leftovers. Grandma thought he should just sit and relax, but I could tell he really wanted to do something to feel as if he belonged here. Afterwards, Grandma got ready to go out for Bingo, she only did after convincing her that she should go and not try to coddle him too much. Once alone, I found myself unsure of what to do with him. He was ahead of me, grabbing my book from my bag and said, "You promised me Robert Frost." I brought him over to the couch, he sat at the other end as I read to him. As I had read to him, I noticed how he meekly moved down to get closer to me. Soon, he was next to me and he carefully slid his hand to touch mine. I could see a slight blush on his cheeks and I smiled back at him. I want him comfortable with this, with affection and tenderness. 

The clock struck ten and I realized that he was getting sleepy. I walked him up to his room, helped him into bed and he feel asleep with no problem. I let out a contented sigh, the first day was a success and I was eager to see more days up ahead, a new beginning for us both. 


	9. Visitors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a few days late. Thanks to skarsgard-90 for their help in getting some images I needed to write this.

Chapter 8: 

The first thing I did in the morning was to look in on him. I was disturbed by the sight of the cage he made for himself. Tucked in the corner, he made it out of the the dresser and the desk. To cover it all he took the sheet to give it that illusion of a top. I felt terrible that I hadn't made sure he slept in the bed again, that I merely brought him to his room and bid him goodnight. I crept in and tried to peak in and found him resting against the wall, his feet just hitting the dresser. I could see just how he had gotten that hunch in his shoulder as it rested against the wall and was used as a sort of pillow for his head. And yet, somehow despite this tragic scene, he slept on. He looked more peaceful when he slept in the bed that I had to wonder why he didn't use it again?

The bruise that was large and purplish the day before looked small and less discolored. Bruises don’t usually go away that quickly, especially one as big as his. He was beautiful, his pale skin looked so soft; his features were striking but gentle, the cutest nose and the nicest lips I had ever seen. I hurried out, feeling like a creep watching him sleep and thinking about how handsome he was. Passing Grandma in the hall, she took my hand.

“How is he?”

“Sleeping like a baby. He needs a good rest in a proper bed.”

“Do you think he’ll tell you anything today?”

I bit my lip. “I don’t know. I don’t want to push him, it’ll probably be best to just let him speak whenever he is ready to.”

Sudden knock at the door interrupted our thoughts. “Who could that be at this hour?” Grandma wondered as she went down the stairs.

Following behind her, I watched as Grandma open the door and was greeted with a man in a suit and a camera man behind him.

“Hi there ma’am. I am from the TV station. I heard you have the prisoner of Shawshank living with you and I was hoping for the honor of an interview.”

He was so smarmy it had grossed me out. Grandma wasted no time. She gave him a firm no and slammed the door on him. He knocked again, prompting her to open it.

“Ma’am, I don’t think you realize how important your guest is. He knows Lacy’s true nature, all the dark secrets of Shawshank. He needs to reveal it to us.”

“What he needs is rest, some peace and quiet, something I would like as well.” She closed the door once more and once more received a knock. “Dear, call the police.” Going into the kitchen, I began dialing, watching as she opened the door to the reporter looking even more frustrated.

“That weirdo needs to come down here and tell his story. He owes it to the people of Castle Rock!”

“No, what Castle Rock owes him is a normal life. And I intend on giving that to him, come hell or high water. And if you will not leave then I will make sure that the police do.”

I hung up and went over to her informing her that the police were on their way.

“You’ll regret that. You won’t be able to hide him forever, everyone will want to see him, everyone will want to know Lacy’s dirty little secret. To see the freak of Shawshank.”

“Sir, in my experience, I have found the company of freaks more pleasurable than the company of normal people, or at least those who claim to be. You are a cretin, a bug dressed in a fancy suit hoping to fool everyone with your so called sophistication. We want none of that here, so just get out.”

He the huffed and when a police car pulled up, he decided it was then time to leave.

“Everything alright ma’am?” asked the officer.

“Yes, thank you. The creep was just leaving. Though if he ever comes on my lawn again, I am arresting him for trespassing.” She slammed the door and I stood there, deeply impressed.

“That was so cool Grandma.”

She smiled and shrugged, “I have my moments.”

As we turned back, we saw the Kid, sitting on the stairs, he had tears in his eyes but a smile on his face. “Thank you,” he whispered and then walked back up the stairs. We stared after him; I understood that this was his way of saying that he forgave her, that she didn’t have to torture herself anymore. Grandma looked touched by this, and I think she understood.

“He needs some breakfast. We must work to put some meat on those bones.” We worked on a big breakfast for us, he came down half way to observe us, though at times it felt like he was watching me more than observing. I would give him smiles and each time my heart would ache because of how he looked at me, as if I was somehow the most wonderful thing he had ever seen. When we ate, he had reached over to hold my hand. I was pleased that he was becoming more willing to not only be touched but to touch as well. As we were cleaning up from breakfast the doorbell rang. I opened the door, ready for another rude intruder, and sighed. It was Molly Strand, the real estate lady. I didn’t know her personally, but whenever I saw her, she was always nice to me, always had an air of being lost. She stood there with a box and feeling unwanted.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you. Henry called me and said you had his client here. I had some clothes that should fit him as well as a pair of sneakers.”

Taking the box from her, I gave her a warm smile. “Thank you, this is greatly needed.”

“How is he?” She seemed so concerned for him, genuinely concerned.

“I think he’s doing alright,” I explain, stepping out to avoid being heard. “He hasn’t said anything yet about it all, but it’s defiantly is a huge change for him.”

She nodded and said, “If there is anything you need, let me know.” She paused, looked at me and smiled. “Henry said you might help him. I know you can. I know.” She then walked back to her car and drove off.

I was left a little puzzled by her words, but I wasn’t ready to dwell on it. I hurried back in and nearly bumped into him.

“Who was that?”

“Oh, Molly. She’s a friend of Henry’s. Brought you some clothes. Come on, let’s try them.” I brought him into my room, laying the clothes out on the bed. “These look just right. Here, try these ones on and we’ll see how you like them.” He took the clothes from me and took his sweater off and was about to take his white tee of before I stopped him. “Oh whoa! Hold up. Uh, sorry, I meant go to the bathroom and change.”

He looked at me funny. “Why?”

“Well, because it isn’t proper.”

“Why?”

It felt odd to try and explain that people don’t really change in front of each other, especially people that they are not familiar with. “Because, well, when you had gotten new clothes from Lacy, didn’t he at least turn away when you changed?” He shook his head. “Or when you needed the bathroom?” He shook his head again.

“He said he couldn’t afford to keep me out of his sight while he was with me. Never knew what I would do to him.”

I was stunned. “What could you do while in a cage?”

He looked down and said, “He said I was the devil. I brought evil everywhere I went, that I had to be kept away for everyone’s safety.”

It was hard to hear when Grandma told me about it, it was harder to hear it coming from his own lips. Did he really call him the devil? What kind of a man was Lacy and what sort of things happened down in that prison cellar? I did the only thing I could think of, I went up to him and gave him a hug. “You are not the devil, Lacy was wrong. And you will never have to go through any of that ever again.”

He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer to him. My head rested on his chest, listening to his heart beat. “Will I stay with you?”

“Yes.”

“For as long as I like?”

I smiled against him. “For as long as you like.”

His fingers brushed against my head, going up and down and through my hair. We stayed like that for a while, letting him decide when to let me go, letting him take his time for comfort. He eventually let me go, grabbing the clothes and went out. Taking the chance, I changed into some jeans and a t-shirt and waited for him to come back. He knocked and when he came in, he wore a jeans, a brown long sleeved shirt and a flannel jacket. “That looks good. Length is good and everything. Do you like it?” He nodded, took another set of clothes and walked out. For most of the morning he tried on clothes and showed them to me, and I could see he had started to like doing this, and a part of his personality was coming through. He was playful, shy and eager to make me smile. It was a glimmer of light in the sorrowful nature he no doubt had been accustomed to from the years of being locked away.

When at last we had gone through the clothes, deciding that they all fitted him wonderfully, he sat on the bed beside me and asked, “Why did she bring these for me?”

I shrugged, “Just wanted to help, I guess.”

“Why?”

“Because sometimes, people do good things because they want to. Not everyone in the world has to have a reason to be kind.”

“Like you.” He looked into his hands and said, "You've always been there for me. Because of you, I made it through the years." He looked up at me and said, "I waited for you, I waited my whole life for you. You saved me. You're my angel, no matter what."

My vision was blurred with a sudden rush of tears that came to my eyes. I felt his finger wipe away the tears from both eyes and I could see he had tears as well. I tried to reach for him, but he just stood and walked out. Why was it that whenever it felt as if we were getting somewhere, it was followed with steps back? How was it that I barely knew him and yet felt an ache in my heart for him, the need to have him near and to somehow make sure he was loved? Why couldn't I stop thinking of him all the time? 

The sound of the doorbell interrupted my thoughts and I hurried down. When I opened the door, there was Alan Pangborn, Castle Rock's old sheriff. He was a very grim looking man, a gravely voice and a stare that could turn you into stone. But he was a softie, as much as he would refused to believe it, how else could you explain his sudden appearance after Pastor Deaver's death to go and live with Ruth, his rumored secret love? It was romantic in a way, though you wouldn't have believed it when you looked at him.

"Hello Mr. Pangborn, what can I do for you?"

He looked around the house and asked, "Is he here?"

"Who?"

"The kid, from Shawshank."

"Yes, he's upstairs."

His eyes glanced up and he asked, "How long will you keep him?"

"Well, as long as he likes."

His face grew grimmer and shook his head. "Don't let that fucking kid stay for too long. You'll get hurt." And with that he stormed off.

I stood there stunned for a minute, trying to understand why he would even care, what did he know? I closed the door and then heard a soft voice say,

"He's right." I turned and saw him standing on the landing, looking sad. "I'll hurt you. I hurt everyone."

"No. I promise you, you will not hurt me. How many times can I say that until you believe me?" He hung his head, not fully believing in me. I went up to him and found myself reaching up, my hands cradling his face and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. He looked at me surprised but I only offered him a smile back. "I waited for you too and I am not willing to give you up without a fight." He gave me a smile, but he began to sob, his head resting in the crook of my neck. 

"I'll tell you everything. Tomorrow, not now." He moved from me to look me in the eyes, while tears still flowed. "I want to enjoy this, before you decide you don't want me anymore."

"That won't happen, I promise."

A sound from below made us jump, but it was only Grandma. "Sorry, but I need to get upstairs, so if you wouldn't mind." 

Letting out a small laugh, I took his hand and brought him down and into the living room. "Come on, let's just be together. Want to watch a movie? Got quite a few. You need to watch this, and this!" I rambled on as he took a seat on the couch, watching me as usual. I eventually picked a movie to watch and plopped beside him. While he watched the movie, I was watching him. I had gotten a kick at the times whenever he reacted, his shock, his joy, he sorrow. They were such honest reactions that I was not even watching the movies, despite them being my favorite. I had made sure that he had some lunch in between the films, but brought him back to watch another. He was so excited to see a life go by in a black screen, to be taken away from his current life for a while. This had been the most relax I had ever seen him be. 

After the second movie, I stretched out and sighed. "So, what did you think?"

He smiled a sweet and goofy smile and amazed replied, "It was magic."

Returning the smile, I rested against his shoulder. "I'm glad you liked it."

Grandma came down the stairs, wearing her blue and yellow bowling shirt. Looking at my watch I was surprised that it was already after six. “Snazzy as always Grandma.”

“Thank you. I saw Ruth earlier today and I believe she will be able to make it here tonight.”

Every Wednesday, she and Ruth Deaver have dinner out and then go bowling together. Grandma knew Ruth before she was married, having gone to school together, but they sort of fell out of touch when Ruth married the pastor. It wasn’t a great marriage, Matthew Deaver was controlling and strange, so when he died, Ruth’s life seemed opened up with possibilities that she had lost. They reconnected after and had been close ever since. A good deal of the time, Ruth would remember and would come to the house for Grandma, but on those days when she would forget, Grandma would drive up to her house and would say that her partner for the night couldn’t make it, so would Ruth be interested in playing a game with her. Worked every time. 

The doorbell rang and when Grandma opened the door, there was Ruth. She was the sweetest lady I knew, next to Grandma. If my grandmother was unusual and bold, Ruth Deaver was quiet and calm. She always had a smile for anyone she met, her voice never rose to anything louder than an indoor voice. It was a shame when we had found out about her Alzheimer’s, to watch her slowly forget the people she cared for, forget the life she had led. But what was remarkable to me was that even when she would forget someone, she had always treated them with that same kindness, always as if everyone around her was a friend.

“Ruth, so glad you were able to make it.”

She laughed, “You always say that when I show up, and you know I always do.”

Ruth entered and when she saw me, went in for a hug. “Sera, how are you dear?”

“Fine, just fine.”

“And the library?”

“Well, taking some vacation time from it.”

She nodded. “Good, it’s always good to take some time for yourself. I am very excited, my son is back and I get to see him again.”

I could hear his footsteps, stopping beside me. He stared at Ruth with an intensity that shook me: he looked at her as if he knew her, as if he couldn't believe his eyes. Ruth looked at him with a similar look, as if she had knew him but as if he was a ghost.

She shook her shock and smiled. “Hi there. My, you are tall aren’t you?” He said nothing. “You look like someone I knew, someone who died.” He hung his head. She moved closer, their height difference was so apparent, but in this moment, the short woman seemed so tall and the tall man seemed so small. She placed a hand to his cheek, where the fading bruise was. “What has happened to you?”

There was tears in his eyes and he looked as if he had desperately wanted to say something to her, to let her know whatever it was he was feeling, but couldn’t.

Grandma stepped up, placing her hand on Ruth’s shoulder. “He’s had a long day, Ruth dear, I think we should go now. You can see him another time if you like.”

Ruth nodded, but she kept her eyes on him. “Goodbye.” Her hand slipped from his face, he leaned in wanting to feel her as much as he could and watched as she and Grandma left the house. I moved closer to him, taking his hand.

“Are you ok?”

He let out a shaky sob and turned to go up the stairs. There was something going on that I had to figure out, something that I hoped I would be able to help with. God, what is his story?


	10. A Night Together

Chapter 9:

I found myself at his door, hearing soft sobs on the other side. How many times will I have to hear his cries? How can I endure it? I went back into my room, grabbing the clothes that were given to him and returned back to his door. Knocking, I tried to coax him.

“May I come in?” No reply. “I have your clothes here, might as well put them in your drawers.” He said nothing. “I won’t come in unless you allow me. You are not alone, no matter what you may think. I am always here for you.”

Thinking that he didn’t want to see me, I started to head back to my room, but his door opened and he stood there, his eyes and nose red. He looked like a little boy lost in a sea of strangers. I entered the room and was still so unaccustomed to the cage in the corner.

Ignoring it, I went to the unused bed and began to separate and fold the clothes. He sat on the bed, watching me as usual. Practically any man who would watch me like this would make me annoyed or scared, but under his unusual eyes, I felt rather special, loved even. Curious to know why he watched me, I was ready to ask but he then murmured, “You’re so beautiful.”

I stopped, letting out a small smile. People had told me that, most of the time it was unwanted compliments from men who wanted something else from me. I moved in front of him to caress his face. “Your face is blotchy. You should wash it with some cool water.”

“I want to stay with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

He looked at me, wondering if I was lying, but when he found what he was looking for, he nodded and headed to the bathroom. He was back before I had even folded and put away one of his shirts. I let out a laugh, his face was wet and how he stood there in the doorway, like he was so proud of himself. Grabbing a tissue from the box, I went up to him. “Here, let me help.” I began to dry his face, reaching up on my toes. “It’s a wonder that you are so tall having been stuck down there for 27 years.”

He shrugged. “Lacy made sure I had a food. He would bring down whatever it was that the prisoners ate above.”

I scrunched up my face. “Probably wasn’t the greatest food you ever ate, was it?”

He chuckled. “No. Yours is better.”

Tossing the wet tissue out, I went back to the clothes. “You just missed Thanksgiving. Grandma and I put out a spread like nobody’s business. Before, when Ruth was alone, she would come over to cook. The way those two moved around the kitchen, Grandma a hurricane and Ruth a professional chef. When Mr. Pangborn came back, Ruth started to stay home with him.”

As I spoke, he sat back on the bed and carefully folded a shirt. “She is happy?”

“Yeah. I believe so. It’s rather sweet, I guess the two of them had feelings for each other long time ago and after her husband’s death, they got together. And he’s been great to her, especially after the Alzheimer’s. Helping her around the house, taking her to doctor’s appointments. It was heartbreaking to hear that was happening to her.”

He handed me the shirt and asked, “Can nothing be done for her?”

I sighed, “Unfortunately, there isn’t a cure yet. You’d think with all that we have come so far in, we can’t help the people we love.”

“You can.” I paused, looking at him. “You could help her.”

“I can’t. Sometimes being kind isn’t enough.”

“I don’t mean that. You could help.”

“How?”

“It’s what you do. You help people.”

It was frustrating that I could never get much of a clear answer from him, but it seemed as if he was only saying so because of my helping him, maybe he had a bit too much faith in me. “We need to eat, it’s late enough as it is.” Taking his hand and leading him to the kitchen, I searched around for something to make. “Hmm, not quite feeling up to cooking. How about pizza? Ever had pizza?” He shook his head. “You’ll love it!” As I had placed the order, he had moved into the living room and soon I could hear him tinkering with the piano. I quietly watched as he sat on the bench, hesitantly playing a song. He would close his eyes as if he was trying to remember from memory and as he played, he would hum the tune to himself.

“I always liked this song,” he mused to himself, “It was her favorite too. She has such a beautiful voice, helped me feel safe. I watched as her fingers glided over the keys, how she would look over and smile at me. It was a happy moment, just a few.” He smiled to himself. “Any moment with her was a happy moment.” Then the smile disappeared. “Any moment with him was a bad moment. All the time, it was bad.”

He just sat there, his fingers rested on the keys but no sound came from them. Was he talking about his parents? About Warden Lacy, and if so, then who was the woman?

“I could remember how he felt about me. Always so angry, so mean. Whatever took hold of him, a little bit of it went to Warden Lacy. And to Pangborn.”

My heart began to pound in my ear. Pangborn? What did he have to do with any of this? Before I could ask, the doorbell rang. It was the pizza guy and thankfully I sent him off quickly before he could realize who my guest was. That was the last thing I needed, another person curious about him.

“Smells good.”

I jumped at the sound, and once again found him standing right behind me. “You could kill someone with how quietly you move.” Seeing the sudden look of concern on his face, I let out a laugh and a small squeeze on his arm to try and show him I was kidding. He smiled in response. “Do you remember where the plates and napkins are? Would you please grab one for each of us?”

He nodded and I watched as he limped his way into the kitchen while I headed into the living room. He really was a child in so many ways, needing to be reassured, to be taught but then he would be so insightful that it confused me. I was surprised just how easeful it was to be comfortable with him, to have him sit next to me, giving him a slice and just sitting on the couch eating together, like we were old friends who did this every night. I did most of the talking, and I hadn’t realized just how much I had until we were well and done with the food. But it was the way he looked at me, leaning back on the couch, his face looking up at me like he hung onto every word.

“Sorry, I’ve been rambling on. Tell me more about you. Tell me what make you happy.”

“You.”

Leaning back like he had, I finally got to ask him a burning question. “Through the years I saw only your eyes, I felt and saw images that you saw and felt. I wanted so much to reach you, to somehow talk to you, but I couldn’t. Whenever you were sad I could feel it, and I would try to reach you and it felt like you could feel me. I even felt your hand, the night before you came here, I could feel you, as if you were right there beside me. What was it like for you?”

His eyes had softened, and he began. “Your life seemed like a dream, I didn’t believe in it. But I couldn’t understand why I saw your life, felt the things you felt. It wasn’t until I saw your eyes did I really know. Your life was an open book for me, I knew your name, grew up with you. I didn’t mean to make you sad, but I did feel you trying to reach me. Your life was so wonderful and bright, I didn’t think you needed me. My life was dark and unkind, you would have been better off without me.”

I shook my head. “That is not true.”

He moved to sit up and away from me. “It seems so many people are better off without me. Especially the ones I need, the ones who don’t need me at all.”

Sitting up, I gently guided his face to look at me. “You listen to me, no one in this world is better off alone. I need you in my life, I can’t really explain why, but I do. You have been the only one who really understands me. I need you, I want you here with me.

Looking down, his voice was low and I could hear the break. “My mother doesn’t need me. She replaced me. But I can’t blame her. She’s full of love, she needed someone to love and to love her back.”

There it was, another piece. He was stolen from her. If he is able to know this about his mother without ever having met her, was she someone similar to us?

“Maybe we can find her and let her meet you. I bet she misses you terribly.”

He said nothing but moved to rest his head on my shoulder. “She thinks I am dead. I don’t know if I should let her believe it. I want her to say she loves me, to hold me like she did once, but I could ruin her life.”

I began to rub his back in small circles. “You don’t have to think about it now. Give yourself time to adjust, to get used to the world, and soon you’ll find your place here.”

The phone rang, breaking our moment. I slipped away from him, hurrying into the kitchen. “Hello?”

“Hey, Sera. It’s Henry.”

“Oh, hi. How’s it going?”

“Um, fine. I was just calling to see how our friend is doing.”

Looking out across the way, I saw him still sitting at the couch. “He’s doing alright,” I explained, moving further into the kitchen, keeping my eye on the doorway and lowered my voice. “He’s been offering bits and pieces of what happened to him. His mother is still alive, that I know for sure.”

“His mother? Who?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t given me a name. He must have been young though, maybe he doesn’t remember it.”

I could hear Henry sigh and then ask, “And what about what happened during those years? Was he, well to put it bluntly, raped?”

“I doubt it. He said Lacy called him devil, I don’t think Lacy would have wanted to even touch someone he thought was evil.”

Henry muttered something I couldn’t catch but then said, “Alright, what I’ll do is see if I can find records from twenty seven years ago if any children were reported missing in or around Castle Rock. Maybe if we can reunite him with his family, he can heal sooner.”

I felt a twist in my gut to think if he had family outside of Castle Rock and if he found them he would leave here. But he needed his family, he needed some sort of link to his past again. “Sounds good.”

“Alright, take care. And if you or he have any questions, feel free to give me a call.”

After saying goodbye, I went back into the living room, he was still seated on the couch, he looked so tired. I quietly cleaned up, dishes in the sink, leftovers on the oven. When I came back, he still looked so tired, it seemed as if he was trying to stay awake. Glancing at the clock, it was well after nine. When he saw me, he perked up and gave me a tired smile. “Who was that?”

“Henry, just checking in on you. He said if we have any questions to call.” He nodded and his eyes drooped. “Do you want to go to sleep?”

He shrugged, looking so unsure.

 “I bet it wasn’t so comfortable sleeping in a cage, was it? Even the one you made for yourself.”

His eyes opened and he realized what it was I meant. “I couldn’t sleep on the bed. It felt too strange to not be surrounded by a cage.”

“You slept fine when you first came here.”

“That’s only because you were there. I didn’t feel afraid. The monsters wouldn’t get me when you were there.”

I looked at him curiously. “Monsters?”

He nodded. “I see horrible faces in my dreams, someone who looked ancient and disfigured. He’s growling and yelling, trying to grab me. I woke so often from the dreams and I was sure that I could still feel its deathly grip on me.”

Taking his hand into mine, I asked, “What will help keep them away?” He looked down, ashamed. I finished the thought for him. “You can sleep with me if you want.”

He looked at me with shock. “Really? You want me near you? I could hurt you.”

Leaning down, running my hand through his hair. “One of these days, I will get you to believe that you will never hurt me. Now, come on, let’s go to bed.” Taking his hand, I turned out the lights, except the hallway light and brought him upstairs. Stopping in his room, I avoided the awful cage and grabbed the sweatpants and shirt and we entered my room. “Go ahead and change, I’m going to use the bathroom, you can use it after me.”

I quickly changed into my pajamas and brushed my teeth and hurried back into my room. When I had returned, he had changed but he was looking out my window. Moving next to him, I watched as Grandma and Ruth talked, then Grandma hugging her before hurrying off in the house. Ruth turned to leave but she glanced up and looked at us. He stepped forward and his hand rose to the glass, looking down at her. She smiled and waved before hurrying off away.

A shaky sigh escaped from his lips and he turned away, leaving the room. Maybe, I had thought and even hoped, if we can’t find his mother, maybe Ruth could be a mother to him. They seemed to have hit it off rather well, especially considering how few people he seems to be comfortable with. I slipped into bed, opening my book from where I left off and read.

When he came back, he looked at me and suddenly was so small. He couldn’t look me in the eye, looking as if he was battling with himself, whether he really should do this or to stop here. Putting the book back on the nightstand, I looked up at him. “Please, come into bed. We need sleep.”

He didn’t fight with me when I took his hands and pulled him into the bed next to me. He laid there flat against the mattress, looking as if was holding his breath. I moved closer to him, laying on my side, and my hand on top of his. He seemed to relax after a bit and then turned to me. His body began to curl into me, until his body wrapped around me. After a few tries, I was able to reach the lamp to turn off the light, leaving us in darkness.

His hold on me tightened, as if I was a lifesaver in the dark. “Goodnight.” I whispered, while my hands moved to his hair and arm, holding him close.

“Goodnight, Seraphina.”

I stayed up until I knew he was sleeping soundly, his body still pressed to me. My lips had found his forehead, leaving a faint mark before I too had found sleep. 


	11. His Story

Chapter 10: His Story

My dreams were filled with horrifying images, the faces that he had described. It was disfigured, withered and almost skeletal like. Its face was so close to mine, snarling and said the most awful things.

_“The devil is in you. Deceiver!  You almost killed her! I should have known you weren’t my child. Deceiver! And he shall smite the wicked…Deceiver! Your mother can’t hear it. You and her are just the same. Deceiver! Deceiver!”_

I woke with a jolt, my heart pounding. I sighed and gained my bearings, noticing that he wasn’t here. He wasn’t in the bed. I sat up and found him by the window, looking out. The alarm clock read that it was 5:09 am. “Hey, come back to bed. We still have more time to sleep.”

He continued to stare out, his frame looked stiff and afraid. “It’s out there. It sleeps until It finds another host. It wants me.”

“What?”

“The monster. In the woods. It had him, that’s why the bad things happened.”

I slipped out of bed and went to him, my hand reaching for his back, rubbing it. “Please, come back to bed. You need sleep. We both need it.”

He looked at him, his mismatched eyes looked at me so afraid and sad. “If I give you my name, will you say it?”

I suddenly was wide awake. At last, a big piece of the puzzle. “Yes, I will.”

 “It’s a name that was meant for me, but never was properly given to me. But it’s mine nonetheless.” I nodded, anxious to hear the name. He sighed and carefully spoke each word. “Henry Deaver.”

I nearly dropped to the floor when I heard him say it. “What?”

“My name is Henry Matthew Deaver.”

“But, but that’s Henry’s name. Why are you saying this?”

“Because I am Matthew and Ruth Deaver’s child.”

My head swirled and it felt so light that I thought I would faint. I felt distinctly arms catching me from my fall, carrying me to the bed, gentle fingers caressing my head until everything became clear again. Looking up I saw him looking down at me, worried.

“Are you alright?”

I nodded and then sat up, sitting beside him. “You promised me you would tell me everything, and I want everything. All that you know.”

He nodded and began as best as he could.

“Most of what I know, I had learned to take from memories. The memories deep inside of me, because I too wanted to know everything.”

“I can remember her being in pain, her being afraid. They called me premature, too small to have made it. They thought I died, but I was so weak they couldn’t see that I was breathing. I remember her holding me, her tears falling on me and her kiss on my head. She didn’t want to let me go, but she did. She loved me, even before she knew me, she loved me. He brought me down stairs, ready to wrap me up but I began to cry. Matthew was shocked, I could feel how shocked he was. He wanted to let her know I was safe, that their son was born, but when he touched me, I could see all that he was, the evil that was brewing inside. It wasn’t what he expected and he began hating me for seeing his evil, so much that he called me evil. He wrapped me up and took me away. In the woods, there is a storm cellar, just beyond an upside down tree.

“Underneath the earth, I was kept, in a cage. He took care of me whenever he could, always careful to never let his flesh touch mine. I was down there for three years, growing under his religious tutelage. While he sat there and preached to me about the wage of sin and the voice of God he heard always, I saw the darkness growing, I now realize that It take root inside of him. A monster of decomposing flesh haunted me day and night, and he never knew what it was that was holding him. He told me that I couldn’t have been his son, he a man of God, to have a devil for a son. I was a deceiver that he had wished and prayed for and he knew he was right to hide me away, that the world was better off for it.

“Matthew told me about Henry, how he was the son that he was meant to have, surely he would hear the voice of God as he did. I felt angry at this, I hated this boy that I hadn’t even seen. He was going to live the life I should have had, have my mother’s love. But soon he began to tell me about how Henry couldn’t hear the voice, that he was going to force him to hear it. I soon was afraid for him, because the monster inside was becoming desperate. Matthew was weak, a weak host for It.

“Matthew taught me how to speak, taught me all that a child was supposed to learn and then I tried to reach him, tried to win his acceptance. I won’t say it was because of any plan to escape or to stop the monster. He was the only person I knew and I wanted him to love me. But no matter how much I tried, he would not give me a slight chance of acceptance. I wanted a father, a family. I wasn’t evil, I just wanted my family. But he never believed me. He called me a poison on his family and he was to protect them and Castle Rock from my evil doings.

“One winter it had gotten extremely cold, below normal, he told me. Matthew had gotten a heater for underneath there. I often wondered why he didn’t kill me. If he hated me so much, why wouldn’t he just let me die? My answer was because there was a plan for me. He said that God told him that I was meant for something very important, that soon Henry would hear it and we would together bring Castle Rock to what it once was. For the past 27 years I tried to understand exactly what it was that It wanted Henry for, but I couldn’t figure it out. I was suddenly afraid for Henry; he didn’t know what Matthew was like, what he was capable of.

“It was late one night when the cellar door opened, I had expected Matthew but it was Henry. He looked at me, surprised to see a child under the ground. I knew it was him, the Henry that Matthew spoke of, but he seemed so nice, not like Matthew at all. His fingers reached through my cage and touched me, it had been the first contact I had felt in a while and he was good. He broke the lock on my cage and picked me up, wanting to bring me home, but It stopped us. It had taken over Matthew completely, saying it wanted Henry. They locked us in the cage again, It trying to take over Henry’s body. Being stuck in there with It, feeling It’s presence try and seep through us made everything so confusing, a blur. Henry and It had fought hard against each other for days and nights, but Henry somehow was stronger than It, able to break free completely from the monster. He could look at the monster right in the eye and deny It. The last I had seen of Henry was him trying to run away from Matthew, demanding that he accept God, to let God take over him.

“I was once again alone, unsure of what was going to happen to me. I could only remember that in the scuffle between Henry and Matthew, the lantern broke, leaving me in darkness. The next thing I knew, the door opened and there was Warden Lacy. I thought that I was at last to be freed, to be with my mother again. But he only tied me up, locked me in his trunk and drove me to Shawshank. When Pangborn stopped us I thought that then I would be freed, that now I would at last go home, but he looked at me, looked me right in the eye and closed the trunk on me. I realized I was being moved, from one prison to another. And for the next 27 years, I was hidden beneath Shawshank.

“Before you, I hadn’t much to get me through the days, except my mother. I discovered that I could somehow reach her, be a ghost of her life. I sat beside her when she played the piano, listened to her talk about her Norse gods and played games. I knew that these were all things she did with Henry, but in those moments, I pretended it was me she was playing with, reading to, singing her heart out for. I wanted my mother more than anything in the world, besides you. You and she were the only thing that kept me going, the hope that someday I would find you both and be with you at last.”

He stopped allowing me to take it all in. He tilted his head innocently, looking at me with desperate hope. “You believe me, don’t you?”

I wasn’t sure, I wanted to believe him, because it all seemed so strange and impossible to make up, I wanted to believe it was real. I believed that he believed it, that I was certain of. He looked at me as if he was scared that I thought he was crazy, that I would not care for him anymore. “Is that why you asked for Henry? Because he might be able to stop whatever it is in the woods?”

He nodded. “He somehow was able to fight against It, he knows how to stop It. I don’t know how or why, but he hears It. That ringing he gets in his ear, it’s because the monster is calling him. He needs to remember, remember what happened in the basement, what happened in the woods.” He was shaking, tears coming to his eyes. “I can’t go back, I won’t go back. I don’t want to be a prisoner anymore. Don’t let It take me, please, please!”

I immediately brought him to me, holding him tightly. He clutched onto me, his tears wetting my shirt, but I didn’t care. Whatever it was that happened to him, it left him traumatized, afraid of the woods, of being locked up again. This was a tough place for me to be in; I wanted to believe him, he needed someone to believe him but it all sounded like something you’d read in some horror story. But I did have to consider that stranger things have happened and the possibility of all this happening was a good chance.

Ultimately, I just helped him into bed, letting him rest on my chest, whispering comforting words as he fell asleep. I stayed up a little longer, making sure he was deep asleep. I looked over at the window, thinking about the woods, of his story and I decided that I would not be able to sleep if I didn’t try and find this basement, see if there is anything that could make his story real for me. Slipping from his arms, I carefully changed my pants into jeans, stuffed in my book bag a flashlight, my phone and the pocket knife Grandma gave me, put on my boots and coat then snuck out of the house. Although it was still dark out with the exception of the street lights, I couldn’t wait until light. I had to figure it out, I had to know.

The woods were just beyond the Deaver house and even before it turned cold, it always looked so bare, so dead. With his story in my head, my heart began to beat loudly, afraid of whatever could be in the woods. But I told myself that I would be fine, that nothing could hurt me. Checking the time, it was 4:41, no one should be out in the woods now, I should be back before he woke up.  With a deep breath, I hiked in, seeking for the upside down tree. I had never explored there, after the stories about people disappearing and dying in there, I had vowed to stay far away from the woods, but here I was, ready to go deep into the woods to find the answer. I marked the trees with letters of the alphabet, keeping a breadcrumb of my way back. It had taken me almost fifteen minutes before I had thought about giving up. What if they had gotten rid of the tree, what if I never find the answer?

Just by coincidence, I had found the tree. It had a narrow trunk, leading high up to the branches that looked more like roots, branches so think it almost blocked out the sky. This had to be it. I then began to search below my feet for a door, a knob, I even stomped the ground, until I had heard a hollow wooden sound. Kneeling, I moved the leaves and found the cellar door. The lock was broken and even though it wined when I had opened it, the door opened easily. Before going down the ladder, I had found a heavy rock to weigh down the door so I wouldn’t get closed in. With a flashlight in hand, I climbed down the ladder.

The cellar wasn’t very big, it was homemade, wood paneling covering everywhere. The spookiest part of the cellar was just how many crosses that were hanging on the walls, and even more so the wall across from the opening. My heart dropped to my stomach seeing the cage, the wired fence cage. I moved closer, looking inside of it. There were small wooden toy cars, figurines made of soap and a bucket that looked dirty and rusted. I didn’t have to guess what that was for.

Moving on, I saw that there was a crate and a lantern had been broken beside the cage. On the crate, there was a small record player and a tape inside. Rewinding it, I played it. At first, it sounded as if the tape was broken but then I realized it was the wind howling in the background.

_“Today is the day. God has told me that Henry is ready to accept Him. My boy thinks he can fight against the will of God, but he can’t. I know he’s scared, I was scared too but once I had accepted Him in my body and mind, I wasn’t afraid anymore. God says that the child Ruth birthed, the child she claims to be mine, must join after Henry has completed his transformation. The boy who causes destruction everywhere he goes will be helpful in the purification of Castle Rock. The first task God says is to rid of the one who stands in our way, the one who binds Henry to the earthly world, and so Ruth must die. Only then will he fully accept who he is. At last, God’s greatest achievement will be completed.”_

A shiver ran up my spine as I had heard the voice of a man who was willing to kill his wife, lock up his children and all with a coolness that sounded like someone explaining how to fix a sink. Shoving the recorder in my bag, I pulled my phone out, taking as many pictures as I could of the place, hoping to never have a reason to go back. Once I had all that I needed, I hurried back up the ladder and was ready to close the door forever. As I had stood and turned, my breath hitched when I saw beyond the woods a tall and dark figure almost gliding along the woods. Although I couldn’t properly see it, it was clearly inhuman, twisted and strange. I had begun to carefully back away, running when I had believed it was safe, only to find that it had heard the soft rustling leaves underneath my boots and it started to follow me.

I ran for my life, not caring about where my markers were, just hoping to outrun whatever it was that chased me. I wouldn’t look back, not even to see if I had lost it, there was no way I would risk anything for a false hope of security. I saw the Deaver house just beyond the way and picked up the pace. My lungs felt like they were burning, my feet were going numb but my body pushed me on. I run up the porch, at last collapsing and dared to look back. Whatever it was that had followed me, it was no longer there. I sat on the porch, catching my breath and when I checked the time, 4:41 changed to 4:42. I couldn’t have been gone for a minute, there was no possible way. Once I felt well enough to head back home, I kept my eye on my phone, watching as the minutes went by. It takes about ten minutes of a walk between our homes and I had checked all of the clocks in the house to see if they matched. They all did. How was it all possible that no time had been spent inside the woods? What the hell was that thing that lurked in there?

Pushing the image away, I quietly hurried back into my room. He was still asleep, but he was moaning in his sleep, his face looked as if he was afraid, his body twist and turned in the sheets. “No… please. Don’t take her away.” I listened as I changed back into my pajama pants, wanting to get back to him as soon as I could. “Don’t take Seraphina away.”

Slipping into the bed, spooning him from behind, he became calm and his breathing slowed.

“It’s alright,” I whispered. “I’m here and no one will ever take you away from me. I promise Henry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so, yeah this deviates from the original show but you did see that I said it was a canon divergence. I loved the idea of the Kid being Ruth and Matthew's son, especially for some Ruth and Kid feels. Also, I did go from alternate universes to something more supernatural because I am honestly a bit confused on what the Schisma does so I stuck with classic supernatural horror story for the woods. I hope you all like this chapter and as the story goes, more and more pieces will come together to paint the whole picture, as well as more involvement with other characters too!


	12. The Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it has been a while since I have updated, I just have been in a rut.

Chapter 11: The Woods

It was late in the morning when I woke up. I was still curled around Henry, who slept peacefully. This was nice, feeling content and safe. I nuzzled myself closer to him, my face buried in the shoulder blade. “Henry.” I whispered. And then I remembered what had happened the night before. He told me about how he was Ruth’s child, how he was locked up. I remembered the trip to the woods, the cellar and whatever it was I saw in the woods. I carefully sat up, removing myself from him to look at my phone. Was it all there, did I dream it? To my horror it was all there. The crosses on the walls, the wire fence cage, the recorder. It really was true.

“What are you looking at?”

I put the phone back down, turned and saw Henry rubbing his eyes, yawning. “Some pictures I took. Henry,” he paused, looking at me, as if happy to hear his name from my lips. “I promise you that never again will you be locked up. But it will mean going back and remembering things that you may not want to remember. And somehow, I will make sure your mother knows that you are alive.”

The phone rang and I could hear Grandma coming down the hall. Knocking she opened the door. “Sera, the phone for you. It’s Mr. Deaver.” She didn’t look at all surprised by Henry being in my room, just smiled and left.

I hopped out and hurried down the stairs. “Hey.”

“Hi, I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?”

“Uh no. Just sort of slept in today.”

“Oh, well, I checked out those kids, I don’t have anything. I went from twenty five to thirty years ago and there wasn’t any records that matched him.”

I wanted to tell him about what happened, what my Henry had said, but I knew he wouldn’t believe it. I almost didn’t believe it. And whatever it was that I saw out there, I had to find out more before fully diving into deep waters. My Henry came up from behind, resting his on my shoulder. “That’s a shame,” I remarked, while bringing my hand up to his cheek. “We’ll figure something out. Hey, Henry? This may seem like an odd question, but what was your father like?”

The line was quiet and tense. “Why do you want to know?”

“It’s just a funny hunch I had,” I lied coolly, “Warden Lacey locked him up just around the time of your dad’s death, isn’t that right? I just wonder if there were some sort of connection.”

I almost thought he wouldn’t buy into it, but then he unhappily told me about him. “He wasn’t the greatest father, always dragging me into the woods, asking if I heard anything.”

“Did you?” I asked. He was quiet. “Did you?” I repeated. He then hung up on me.

Placing the phone back, I turned into my Henry. “He doesn’t hear it. Maybe it’s for the best. We should just leave It alone.”

“Leaving something alone doesn’t solve anything. If It is calling you and Henry, then you are still in danger. Maybe that’s why you’re here with me. So I can help you.”

“You have helped me,” he whispered, pressing his face to my neck.

We stayed like that for a while, I was desperate to try and figure out what to do next. This town was filled with many different secrets and mysteries, someone had to know something, someone had to help us out.

Grandma walked in, making us turn to look at her. “Oh, sorry. Uh, Sera, may I speak with you for a moment?” I nodded, told Henry to make something to eat and followed Grandma into the living room. “Where did you go last night?”

“You saw me?”

“I had a terrible dream of you trapped somewhere, locked up, running away from something. When I woke, I looked out the window and saw you walking back to the house. Where were you?”

Lowering my voice, I explained, “I know who he is. Grandma, he’s Ruth’s son. The one that supposedly died.”

She stared at me, then looked beyond to Henry, then back to me. “Are you sure? Matthew and Ruth buried the baby in Castle Rock Cemetery, I remember being there.”

“Did you actually see the baby?”

Grandma paused and then shook her head. “No. Matthew wouldn’t let anyone open it. Said he didn’t want to upset Ruth again.” She moved closer to look at Henry, who was watching the toaster for the bread to come out. “Oh God. He _is_ Ruth’s son. I see it.” Turning back to me, she whispered, “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Sitting on the couch, I asked, “What was Matthew Deaver like? What was the relationship between him and adopted Henry like?”

Grandma sat beside me, sighing. “It is not a pleasant story. Ruth told me that there was trouble in the marriage. Matthew was always unusual and at times seemed threatening, but no one ever thought anything of it, after all, he was the reverend. The day Henry disappeared, Ruth begged him to look for Matthew, even though everyone had believed him to be dead. That winter it was below zero, they expected to find the boy frozen to death somewhere. Pangborn found Henry but he couldn’t remember where he had been or what happened, which was odd since he was gone for eleven days. Matthew was found with a broken back and half frozen. Sometime later, Matthew’s breathing tube was found pulled. People said it was Henry who did it. If he did, I am sure he had a reason for it. There was always something dark inside Matthew, and I bet the both of them saw it.”

The door knocked and my Henry went to open it. “Hi, is Sera home?” I got up and saw Molly there, looking concerned. “I need to talk to you, the both of you.”

Letting her in, we went into the living room. “Is everything alright? Do you want anything?”

Molly shook her head. “No, no thank you. I think Henry is in danger.” Molly wrung her hands, looking uncertain and flustered. “You see, I can, I can feel things, more than most people do. My head is like a station, some people’s frequency is weaker and others stronger. Henry and I have always been connected. I am not sure why, but we have. I know when something happens to him, because it feels like I am there with him. And I remember things that didn’t happen to me. They happened to Henry. And he’s in danger.”

“Why are you telling us?”

She sighed, “Because I know who you two are. You two are connected like Henry and I are connected, but more personal, stronger. Henry doesn’t feel the same things as me, but there is something inside him. And whatever it is, it wants him. I saw the woods, a cellar and a baby.” Looking at my Henry, she replied, “I know it was you. You and him," she looked at me and him, "the both of you, Henry and I. Somehow we are connected. I am sure of it.”

“The woods.” My Henry at last spoke. “It all happened in the woods. We need to go there.”

Taking his hand, I looked at him carefully. “Are you sure? I don’t want to push you into something you aren’t ready for.”

“I have to.” Looking down at me, he muttered, “You’re right. If we do nothing, It will always be there.”

I nodded. “Alright. We’ll change and go.”

Once we changed, I brought my bag again, this time packing the gun Grandma got me when she heard that some murderer had escaped and was on the run. I had never used it, only practicing with it once in a while, but if the time came for it, I would use it.

As the three of us walked towards the woods, I could feel people staring at us, or rather at him. He felt scared, as if he wanted to disappear. I took his hand in mine, my thumb rubbing reassuring circles. At the woods clearing, I pointed out my marking. “There, if we follow those, we’ll find the cellar.”

“How do you know this?” asked Molly as we began our trek into the woods.

“I was here last night. It was freaky, I walked in and I know I was gone for a long time, yet when I stepped out, time barely passed.” 

 Molly let out a shaky sigh as we walked further into the woods. "I feel something. It's getting so strong." Molly didn't even notice the markings and began to sprint towards the cellar. My Henry looked all around him, as if afraid of It coming out, as if there was everything to fear. 

"Hey," I comforted, "It's alright. I am here. I won't let anything get you."

"I'm scared."

"I know, Henry. I know."

He shook his head. "No. I am scared for you."

I looked at him curiously. "For me?"

He nodded. "It wants you dead."

The idea of being killed by some monster certainly made me terrified beyond belief. As foolish as it may have been, I was not ready to give up just because It wanted me dead. My life would be in danger, whether I decided to abandon this cause or not, so why not at least try to not live in fear? "Henry, we will take care of each other. I'll be there for you, will you be there for me?" He nodded, squeezing my hand. 

"Hey, over here!" Molly brought us back to the present and we hurried over to the cellar door. Or at least what had remained. The door that I had weighed down was pulled out from the hinges, the wood torn into splinters. "Matthew..." Molly whispered. She carefully climbed down, Henry and I followed after. Pulling my flashlight out, we looked around. The crosses were covered in blood, strange markings were written on the wood paneling by what seemed to be claw marks. Molly shook, her breath visible despite it not being freezing outside. "Matthew would sit there," she pointed to the crate, and then she moved closer to the cage, "You and Henry were here. Huddled together."

My Henry carefully stepped closer to the cage, his fingers running over the fence. He sat down on the ground, grabbing the figurines made of soap. "I watched him make these. He would tell me about them as he made them. This one," he explained as he held one in his hands, "Is Warden Lacy. He said that he would be perfect for he was a man of God, just like him." Picking up the other figure, he said, "This Pangborn. He told me how he sinned, for coveting my mother, for seducing her." Molly looked at me, catching his choice of words. I mouthed to her "later" to which she accepted with ease. "He said that when the day of Judgement comes, God will do with them as He will. I couldn't tell sometimes who he meant, It or God when he spoke like that."

I knelt beside him, by hand on his shoulder. "We'll figure it out and soon you'll be able to live without fear."

An eerie screech from above made all of us look up. "We have to go now!" Henry took my hand, leading me up the ladder. After all three of us got out, birds flew fast and squawked as if they were startled by something. We weren't alone. A growl echoed through the woods and just like that night before, a tall shadowy figure appeared, this time it appeared bigger than before. The growl turned into a hiss. "Leave him to me, girl." It. "Leave him to me and stay alive."

I grabbed Henry closer to me, Molly and I standing before him as if to shield him. "I will never let you have him," I hissed back. "I'll never let you win."

"Fine. Die."

The figure swiftly disappeared, and before anyone of us could even think, Molly fell to the ground with a scream, blood dripping from her shoulder. Dropping to her side, Henry placed his hands on the spot where she was hurt, hoping to stop the bleeding. A bird circled above us, cawing, as if to call them back. "Henry, we need to get out of here. Can you carry her?"

He nodded, the birds gathering above us. Henry picked her up, running with me as I pulled out my gun, shooting at the birds that came too close. We ran as fast as we could back to the house alive. The clearing was ahead and so I directed Henry to run while I fought off the birds. They began to disappear as soon as Henry was out of the woods. "You think you can defeat me with your little toy?" It now stood before me in it's dark twisted figure, it's teeth protruding from it's mouth, claws from his hands. "He and Castle Rock will be mine once again."

"Fuck you." I shot at It, causing it to fall back. I knew it wasn't the end, but it was enough to run away and back into safety. Looking back, it was all quiet like before, as if nothing evil had ever been there. But we knew better. And we would be ready for It the next time. 


End file.
